


(Un)Broken Promises

by kremlin



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 05:30:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13229049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kremlin/pseuds/kremlin
Summary: It had been 5 years. 5 years since Hybern had killed their father, had shredded Cassian’s wings once again and Nesta had decided to go down with him, rather than be without him. 5 years, since he had kissed her and promised to find her again.





	(Un)Broken Promises

 

It had been 5 years. 5 years since Hybern had killed their father, had shredded Cassian’s wings once again and Nesta had decided to go down with him, rather than be without him. 5 years, since he had kissed her and promised to find her again.

It had taken 1 year for Nesta to start talking to her sisters again, after she had shut herself in her room at Feyre’s townhouse, mourning the death of their father. 

The feelings had been too much, consuming her wholly and completely, and she had been afraid to rip the world apart after her sister’s mate had died stitching it back together. 

So she had cloistered herself away and spent her days in silence, until she could calm the raging storm of her feelings enough to not be a danger to everyone around her and the whole world alongside it.

It had taken her another year to settle into her new life, to get accustomed to the new dynamics of the relationship with her sisters. 

It was confounding to find Elain smiling again, tending to the garden at the townhouse that now sprawled with an abundance of flowers and greens. But also solemn and disturbingly decisive at times, especially, when she was officially consulted as Seer by the High Lord and Lady, who was her other sister. 

Seeing Feyre in charge was not something that irritated Nesta, it hadn’t been a new occurrence, because Feyre had always been the one in charge, feeding them and keeping them alive. But seeing her smiling and laughing and  _happy_ was something that still caught Nesta of guard. She had seen Feyre kill and eviscerate with her bare hands, both game and their enemies, but the beauty she could create with those same hands on a canvas, her view of the world Feyre betrayed with just the stroke of her brush and a speck of paint, had Nesta tremble in awe and burn with jealousy.

It had taken her one more year to be able to tell Feyre this and learn to express her emotions in general. 

Nesta had never been attuned to her feelings, feeling had made her scared and being scared had made her angry. And all her life, burning with anger had kept those other feelings, feelings she was feeling so much deeper and fiercer than other people, at bay. 

Excruciating slow but steady, she had learned that being scared was alright, that admitting to it was not weakness but strength, and that feeling and caring was not something she needed to fear, but something she should embrace, even if what she was feeling wasn’t pleasant most of the time. 3 years after their father’s death, Nesta learned how to shed tears and not be ashamed for it. And for the first time, together with her sisters, she could mourn him properly and yield to her sorrow.

The fourth year, Nesta attempted to learn how to communicate with people other than her sisters. 

She once again accepted to be the Night Court’s Emissary to the Human Lands, a task she even grew to enjoy, something that she hadn’t known she could do -   _enjoy_. It was a task she was apt to perform. She might not have been a seer like Elain, but she knew how to observe. She might not have been a queen like Feyre, but she knew how to command and present herself with dignity.

She also used this fourth year to acquaint herself with Feyre’s friends, the Inner Circle how they were called. She watched them, studied them, evaluated them, and learned about herself as she learned about them. 

She started with Amren. She had always gotten along with Amren, but now Nesta learned to appreciate the many things Amren taught her and she learned to be thankful for the time the tiny ancient one invested in her. 

She learned to be glad for Azriel’s quiet demeanor and gentle friendship, that had helped Elain discern between dreams and reality, redraw the blurred lines between what was and what was to be. The same friendship he extended to her once she let him, making their jobs as Spymaster and Emissary easier. She even came to notice what Feyre called his ‘wry humor’, although she did not understand it. Humor was something she still had to learn. 

She learned something akin to manners and to reply politely when Mor inquired about her dresses and jewelry, and although she still couldn’t handle Mor’s cheerfulness and her bubbly demeanor caused her disconcertment, she liked to be taken to the shops of Velaris by the insightful female to spend her money on dresses and perfume. Money she had earned herself for the first time in her life.

Lucien she despised and would for a while longer. Not because he was Elain’s mate or because he had betrayed Feyre’s friendship, but because looking at him was like looking into a mirror and having her own weaknesses reflected. That, she couldn’t deal with, yet. 

Rhysand – Nesta didn’t know what to think about him. There were so many masks he wore, that even for all her looking and careful observation, she never really saw  _him_. But she saw how he took care of them all and how both of her sisters liked him and was content. Their relationship was a professional one, he was her High Lord and she his Emissary. It was not cordial, but neither was it hostile, but pleasantly neutral. 

Nesta watched her family, those who became her friends, how they interacted and were and  _lived_ , and after four years, she felt like living was not something she resented so much anymore.

It was then, by the end of the fourth year, that Nesta allowed herself to lower her walls, to allow softness where once only steel had been and to subdue the flames that had once burned so fiercely within her.

The fifth year she waited for him. The one that had said his only regret was that he did not have time with her. The one who had promised to find her.

She had watched him, like she had watched the others. She had seen that, same as her, he had needed time. After the war, his wings had been broken and so had his spirit. She had also seen, that even when the others had thought he was healed, he was not. 

Cassian had always given her time to adjust, even before she became Fae. He had pushed, but never too far. He had hit where it hurt, but had never been cruel. And he had come back, even when she told him to stay away over and over again. 

So Nesta gave him time as well. To heal, to grow, to calm. Yet, he wouldn’t. Not completely.

She saw him with Mor and Azriel, but they were no longer the way they were before the war. Something had changed. Cassian still acted like a buffer between the two, only he wasn’t needed as such anymore. He was still close with Mor, something that, as she now realized, had made her jealous before she could even name the feeling and made her jealous still, but they no longer maintained that sexually charged tension. The dynamic of their relationship had shifted. Only Nesta didn’t know, whether that was good or bad.

She saw how he behaved around his Lord and Lady, ever the cocky and loud-mouthed general, brother, and friend, but there was an edge to his smile and shadows passing over his face when he thought no one was looking. She noticed, how he was away from them more often now, claiming that his duties kept him occupied, when they - in fact - did not. Not all the time.

And most of all, she noticed he stayed away from her. 

Nesta thought, maybe it was because he thought she needed more time, or maybe he was not ready. So, for one year, she watched him, silent and attentive, and waited for him like he had for her.

But at some point, while watching Cassian, a new feeling grew in Nesta. 

She  _wanted_. 

She wanted him to come for her, wanted him to follow through with his promise to her, she wanted _him_. And every day she watched him, that feeling grew stronger, until it grew too much.

And then, one morning, Nesta woke up at the crack of dawn and decided she was done waiting.

She threw off her covers and got out of bed, donning the first gown she got her hands on. She quickly brushed her hair and braided it into a simple braid that fell down her back. She had no time for elaborate up-dos, not when she heard the tell-tale creaking of the hallway’s floorboards. Nesta hurriedly tied off her half-finished braid and flung her door open, causing Feyre to give a startled jump.

“Nesta?” she asked surprised, a hand over her heart.

“You off to train?” Nesta asked clipped. Even if their relationship now was more open and caring, Nesta’s way of speaking was still painfully harsh. She would probably need another century to learn how to speak pleasantly.

Feyre gave a hesitant nod.

“I’m going with you. I need to speak with Cassian.”

Dim understanding lit Feyre’s eyes. Her sister knew she wouldn’t get any training today, not when Nesta planned to chew Cassian out, but thankfully didn’t comment on it. With another nod and a wave of her hand, she motioned for Nesta to follow her to the rooftop terrace, from where they would take off flying to the House of Wind.

15 minutes later, they landed on the training deck, Cassian already there. His shirt, like so often, lay discarded on the ground beside him while he went through his warm-up exercises. Feyre botched their landing slightly, she was still not used to carry another person with her, especially not someone with the same height and weight, so the both of them stumbled and fell to the ground in a tumble of limbs and golden-brown hair.

“Sorry,” Feyre mumbled embarrassed and helped Nesta to her feet. Nesta just gave her a tight nod, squeezing her hand in thanks. Feyre squeezed hers in return and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and a whispered “good luck” before waving to Cassian and turning around, no doubt returning to her bed and her sleeping mate, given the unexpected vacation from Cassian’s spartan training.

“What -“                                                                                            

Nesta turned to a gaping Cassian, who watched his High Lady jump from the balcony and vanish towards the city below.

“Nesta, what is going on?” he demanded to know from her.

Nesta smoothed out the skirt of her dress and ran a hand over her hair in an attempt to make herself more presentable. “I gave Feyre off today, because I need to speak with you.”

Cassian glowered and crossed his arms before his muscular chest, his powerful biceps bunching when he did so. Nesta quickly averted her gaze from his naked torso. With the newly awakened want also came a newly awakened sexual awareness, a craving for Cassian’s body that was bewildering to her. Nesta had no experience when it came to things like this, so for now, she avoided thinking about it. There was only so much she could learn at a time and by herself.

“Last time I checked, this was not your call to make. Training is off when I say it. We can talk later,” he replied gruff.

“No,” she snapped and faced him again. “No. We talk now. I won’t have you avoiding me any longer.”

Cassian huffed and turned towards the table with refreshments that was set up by the wall next to the entrance. Pouring himself a glass of water, he turned his back to Nesta.

“Then talk.”

Nesta fisted her shaking hands and stared at his back, willing him to look at her, but the overgrown bat wouldn’t turn around.

“How long do I have to wait?” she finally asked.

His wings flared slightly, but Cassian quickly tucked them in tight again. “What do you mean?”

Nesta scoffed. As if he didn’t know exactly what she was meaning. “I’m speaking about the promise you made. How long do I have to wait before you’ll come find me?”

Cassian threw her a quick glance over his shoulder before downing his glass of water and filling it up again. “Nesta, those where other circumstances. Things are different now.”

“So now that we are no longer dying, the promise does no longer hold? Do I have to wait for the next life to be with you?” she snapped.

Nesta could see Cassian’s shoulders trembling with some suppressed emotion. Why was he doing that? Why was he keeping away from her when she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him?

“What am I waiting for, Cassian?” she asked, daring to step closer, but he snapped out his wings and spread them wide, erecting a barrier between them, a shield of horribly scared membrane and mended bone.

“Nothing. Even if you wait, there’s nothing I can give. You shouldn’t wait. Let it go, Nesta. Let me go and be with someone else like you deserve.”  

His words were distant and cold, but Nesta could feel his churning emotions, the ire and hopelessness and grief trickle into her through the thin thread that bound her to him, for now nothing more than a fiber thinner than a hair, than a cobweb, barely there.

“I won’t! Ever. I don’t want to be with someone else, Cassian, I want to be with you! Why can’t you be with me?” she probed.

Cassian gripped his glass tighter, but shook his head. “Because I can’t.”

Nesta wouldn’t accept that - couldn’t. “Why? I won’t leave until you tell me why!”

His siphons suddenly flared and, with a flash of red light, the glass in his hands burst –as did the pitcher of water on the table and the glass doors to the house.

“Why? You want to know why? I am the High Lord’s general,” he roared, glass shards exploding around him, those closest to him instantly being grated to fine dust by the force of his power. “I am his shield, the commander of his armies. I am supposed to shed blood and bleed for him, so he doesn’t have to, yet  _he_  shielded  _me_ from Amarantha and let himself be tortured for 50 years under that mountain, while I was forced to sit around on my ass and to do  _nothing._ NOTHING! I promised my High Lord’s mate, my High Lady, that I would serve and protect her, but it was her that protected me and willingly handed herself over to our enemy to free us, because I was too weak to defend her!”

His eyes held a pain so great, Nesta wondered how he had managed to keep it in for so long. His heart was just as fractured as the shards lying around him.

“And before she was my lady, I promised my friend Feyre that I would protect her sisters, that no harm would come to them. And  _you –_ “, a choked sob escaped him, “I promised you that no harm would come to you, that I would protect you. And I failed you, Nesta. Twice I failed you. Why do you think my promises are worth anything more than the breath they were uttered with? My promises are empty, worthless. Just like me. I am worthless. I am no one. A bastard. I deserve nothing.”

His chest was heaving and his face a mask of anguish and agony like she had never seen before. She felt those emotions barreling into her from him, the force of them causing her heart to crack and splinter under the pressure. Her heart was breaking for him.

“Is that what you think? That you don’t deserve me? That you don’t deserve to be with me?”

Cassian didn’t speak, but the way his face pulled tight and how his eyes darkened told her, she had hit the nail on the head.

“How about what I deserve?” she seethed, anguish turning into anger and awakening the force that slumbered within her, her power roiling under her skin like living flame. Cassian shifted on his feet, unconsciously slipping into a fighting stance. But held her gaze.

“What do you mean, Nesta?” he asked.

“I had everything taken from me. My parents, my status, my sisters, my humanity, my decisions - everything was taken from me. But I fought. I fought the way I knew how to fight, and even if I couldn’t make a difference in the greater scheme of things, even if my fighting and clawing at powers greater than me didn’t make any difference and when I failed over and over again, I fought. And for that I deserve to be happy. But to be truly happy, I need you.”

Cassian looked to the side, avoiding her gaze. “Nesta, if this is about the bond…”

_That cursed mating bond_. The others had been hinting for a while now that they thought Nesta and Cassian were mates. Feyre and Elain had been dropping hints here and there for years now, subtly explaining their mating bonds to her, hoping she would realize that special bond that they suspected – in Elain’s case maybe knew – was there. Little did they know that Nesta did not need their hints and clues. Nesta had known the moment she had emerged from the Cauldron. After all, who else was fit to be with the Lord of Bloodshed, if not the Lady of Death.

“I don’t care about a bond or whatever,” she growled, her power now swirling around her like a cyclone, barely contained. “I don’t care if you think you’re my mate, or if that rutting Cauldron has decided you are my equal. I pillaged that damn Cauldron.”

For emphasis, she released the swirling, destructive wind of power that was circling her into the sky above them, lest she hurt him in her rage. He felt a tapping at the back of her mind, probably Feyre, concerned by the firework of power she and Cassian had released and that was probably felt all over the city, but she wouldn’t be distracted now. 

_No one’s hurt. We’re alright. Leave us alone_ , she spoke in her mind and felt her sister withdraw.

“Who said, I didn’t make that bond for myself, because I decided you are worthy of me, that you are my equal, because you are the one that I want? That I have always wanted?”

But Cassian merely shook his head. “Nes, you can’t. I’m not –“ he began, but she interrupted him.

“You have sworn to protect me. You failed.”

Nesta saw him flinch at her words, but he remained standing where he was, a figure of a broken man admits broken glass shards in front of the broken windows, head and shoulders dropped.

“I have sworn myself to protect my sisters, my family. I failed.” Tears threatened to choke her, but she swallowed them as she stepped closer to him. “I tried to protect you. I failed.”

Nesta came to stand in front of him, tentatively reaching up to cup his face and raise his head to force him to look at her. His lovely hazel eyes were dull and flat, clouded by his pain.

“We both tried and failed. Maybe, we alone are not enough. Maybe we just have to accept that we can try, and rage, and fight all we want, but we will ultimately fail.” Nesta gently caressed his face. “But we have to try again. And maybe, we can try together next time?”

Cassian just stared at her. Thinking. Contemplating. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he clenched his teeth together. “Nesta, I am not… I can’t… I’m not worthy to be with you.”

Nesta scoffed. “Do you remember what you said to me the first time you came to our house? When I asked you what you were looking at? You said, you were looking at someone who let her youngest sister risk her life every day in the woods while I did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall. That my sister died to save your people. And that I had no right to sneer at her for the choices she made. That sounds like I am a pretty worthless myself, don’t you think?”

Cassian’s eyes shuttered close. “Nes –“

Nesta caressed his face again, stroking his rough chin and his broad planes of his cheeks.

“You know what I was looking at that time?” she asked softly. “Not the powerful immortal being that you were, or the commander of the High Lord’s army, but someone who had the audacity and strength to tell me such things to my face in my own house, because I insulted his friend. Someone who was so brave and cared so deeply, he couldn’t let it slide, even if it risked offending me and botching your mission. You don’t get to decide, that you are worthless, not when you’re the best, and kindest, and most wonderful male that I have ever met.”

Cassian drew a deep breath and opened his eyes again, silver lining them now. Nesta gazed at him tenderly.

“Cass, I will be waiting forever, even if I have to wait until the next life. I will always be waiting for you to fulfill your promise to me. Because – and that  _I_  promise  _you_  - I won’t be having anyone but you. I love you.”

And then Nesta raised herself on her tip-toes and sealed her promise with a kiss, like he had that time 5 years ago. It was nothing more than a whisper, the barest touch of their lips that broke to soon, because Cassian inhaled sharply and withdrew immediately, staring at her in disbelief and wonder.

“Nesta!”

But Nesta simply grabbed his face again and brought it down to hers. “You’re mine,” she snarled softly and pressed her lips back to his in a clumsy kiss. And slowly, Cassian raised his arms to embrace her, his wings wrapping around them like a cocoon, and he carefully, tenderly kissed her back.

“I’m yours. I love you, too, Nes,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips and brushed his nose against hers.

They stood embracing each other for a long while, carefully holding each other as if they were afraid to break the spell or the other’s fragile, tenderly beating heart.

And when they finally let go and Cassian gazed at Nesta with love and joy shining in his hazel eyes and smiled at her affectionately, Nesta smiled back. It was the first time in 5 years, the first time in her life, that Nesta had smiled the way she did now – a bright, happy smile.

It was only fitting that he, who had taught her to smile that way, should be the first one to receive it.


End file.
